


Enclosed Spaces

by stacydm



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 22:50:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2168160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stacydm/pseuds/stacydm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The nine times Felicity and Oliver are in tight quarters, and the one time they aren't, but act as if they are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Trunk

The first time Felicity was kidnapped, it only lasted a few minutes. The Dodger pulled her into an empty hallway, strapped a bomb around her neck, and left her with nothing more than a callous threat (and a very deadly explosive). Her first experience probably didn't meet the definition of a typical kidnapping, but that didn't stop Felicity from remarking to Oliver—sadly more than once—that the Dodger took her virginity.

The second time it happened, there could be no debate over semantics. The Count forcibly abducted her from the immunization truck, and then basically held her ransom to lure Oliver to QC. That particular incident still sent Felicity into a guilt-fest that only a half-pint of mint chip could counter-act.

The third time, Felicity knew it was coming. She stood in the lobby of the Queen’s manor, pacing in circles, waiting for Slade to come. She'd never tell anyone, but that waiting had been worse than the Dodger's bomb and the Count's needles, combined.

Now, because Felicity was a genius, she knew that it would only be a matter of time before she was kidnapped again. So, when the fourth time came around, the only surprise was that it had nothing to do with the Arrow.

Lyla had called with a Digglet emergency, forcing Daddy Digg to leave Table Salt midway through their team’s weekly Tuesday lunch.

Not that anyone minded. It wasn't the first time Diggle, Oliver, or Felicity had a competing something during what had now become a ritual meal. Felicity had started organizing their weekly lunch to solidify their friendship, away from the pressure of their nightly activities. Even though she had scheduled the time off in each of their phones, including hers, life still interfered. Oliver was busy filling his daytime hours with a QC Board appointment and important volunteer work. Diggle's everlasting bodyguard-to-Oliver-Queen security job kept him employed, but his time was spent manly on his recent upgrade to fatherhood.

And Felicity? Well, she was active starting up her consulting company, and was currently contracted out to both QC, Verdant, and the SCPD.

"The systems really aren't too terrible," Felicity explained to Oliver between bites of her vanilla brownie. "Kelton had things pretty organized before, but not nearly as secure as they could have been. He was great at writing search code. Not so great of writing security code. Is that okay to say? Is that considered speaking ill of the dead? I hope not because I said the same thing earlier today to basically the whole precinct."

She bit into her lip, worrying, and, not for the first time that week, Oliver imagined biting it just the same way. Shaking the thought from his head, he placed his hand over hers.

"I don't think anyone is going to think that you're speaking ill of Kelton, Felicity."    
"You're right," she smiled softly. "You're totally right. We all have our weaknesses. Mine just have nothing to do with computers. Mine are more edible in nature—desserts...wine...and oh! Oh! I know we aren't supposed to mention our," she looked around and whispered, "night job," and then returned her voice to normal, "during our lunches but I had something to tell you, and Digg, and Roy. Should we start inviting him? Do you think he would want to come?"  
"What did you want to tell me?" He ignored her question about inviting Roy. If anything, he wished Diggle missed more of their lunches so he could date Felicity without her even realizing it.

She excitedly told him about an easy-to-use access program she added into the SCPD server for them to use, and about a picture-filled user manual she e-mailed to them just before lunch.

"That way, if I'm not around, you guys can still find anything the police have access to. I haven't figured out how to create similar programs for the FBI's databases though. I kind of have a feeling that if I tried to work there, they'd find me out as a cyber terrorist pretty quickly."

Oliver shut down when the words "if I'm not around" tumbled from those beautiful, red lips. He hated when she talked like that, as if she wouldn't always be around to support him. It made him nervous, which was a feeling Oliver was not at all familiar with. And he knew that she was just being prepared, because that was just the type of person she was. He knew that she loved what they did for this city and that she cared about him. But he was still expecting the ball to drop. He was still expecting the only thing good in his life to walk out of it.   

Once she finished her brownie, making noises Oliver couldn't stop himself from cataloging for later, he squared the bill and led Felicity out of the restaurant and towards the SCPD building she was retrofitting with some upgraded hardware. She was talking wildly with her hands about a great new coffee shop that opened up a block in the other direction when he felt the tell-tale sign of a gun barrel pressed against his spine.

"Queen, down the alley. Quietly."

He glanced sideways at Felicity, where a second thug was pressing a gun into Felicity's side. He considered his options, but the position of the gun against her abdomen was not ideal. If it went off, there was a chance she wouldn't make it. And Oliver wasn't going to take that chance.

*

Felicity silently followed Oliver and the two gunmen down the alley to an old, beat up Cadillac. She quietly and quickly palmed her cell phone to turn on the tracker and texted Diggle and Roy the car's model and licence plate. Unfortunately for her, Gunman No. 2 noticed. Fortunately, he was too dumb to check what she'd been up to.

"Nuh uh uh pretty thing. No 9-1-1 for you."

Oliver gave her a hard look, clearly irritated she brought attention to herself, before crumpling into the Cadillac's open trunk, courtesy of Gunman No. 2, who struck Oliver's head with his weapon. He decided to pocket Oliver's phone as well, before tucking his legs into the trunk. Felicity would have been _almost_ impressed by Gunman No. 2's efficiency at stuffing large, unconscious men into trunks if she wasn't so pissed off at herself for (a) losing her phone to him and (b) not expecting that kidnapping because she was friends with Oliver was just as likely as being kidnapped because of their night time activities. The entire probability calculation she'd done was now moot. And she really didn't like when her math didn't pan out.

"Get in with your boyfriend." Gunman No. 1 nudged her towards the trunk.  
"He's not my boyfriend," Felicity argued, realizing immediately that arguing with a man pointing a gun at you was not necessarily the best idea, and quickly back-pedaled. "Not that you care who is or isn't my boyfriend. You're just taking me because I'm here. And I'm only here because we're friends. Oliver and me, I mean. Not you and me because if you're the type of friend who shoves their friends into a trunk...not cool. And Oliver and I aren't boy- and girl- friend friends. Just friends. Only friends. I'm just saying, Oliver Queen has zero interest in me as a girlfriend. And, I'm not saying I have an interest in him as a boyfriend either. Not that he isn't a great guy! He's just--"

Gunman No. 1's finger inched closer to the trigger.

"Sorry. Sorry. I ramble when I'm nervous. And this," she gestured to him and the trunk, "makes me nervous." The trigger finger twitched and Felicity flinched. "Alright, alright. You don't care. I get it. I'm getting in now. Geez."

The trunk closed and Felicity was engulfed in darkness. Clearly, the trunk had been tampered with because there was no way any 1980's Cadillac was completely light-tight.

Due to her previous kidnapping experiences, Felicity had a lot of kidnapping related research under her belt. For example, she knew the top ten most common places for kidnapping to occur. Off the street in broad daylight after lunch at a swanky restaurant was not very high on that list (or on that list at all), so Gunman No. 1 and 2 were either very desperate or very practiced, neither of which scenarios she found comfort in.

The fact that she was in a trunk, however, was comforting. During her research, the fact that kidnappers still often used trunks to hide their victims came up over and over again. And Felicity was nothing if not thorough.

So she researched how to escape a trunk (along with how to escape various knots, cable ties, and handcuffs).

She'd yet to put it any of that research into practice though, and was now a little giddy to try it out. Either that, or the adrenaline was starting to wear off...

Feeling around the trunk was slightly more difficult than she imagined, what with Oliver's muscular form taking up nearly every inch of space. She definitely got more than a handful of his bicep, thigh, and butt as she searched the trunk for a way out.

Did she mind? Not really. She didn't think any female would mind a handful of taut Oliver Queen ass.   

And if Oliver had been awake, she would have paid him back in full, for she was more than certain her boobs had been near his face a couple times while she felt for an escape route.

With a frustrated huff, Felicity stopped her groping, coming up empty and disappointed her research was gone to waste.

Defeated, and confident that Diggle and Roy were on their way, she curled into Oliver's chest, waiting for him to wake.   

*

The first thing he noticed after the blackness waned was a faint citrus scent. The second thing was a soft tickle on his cheek and nose. And the third thing was how stiff his body felt.

When he stirred, opening his eyes to darkness, he heard her.

"Oliver," she whispered, "I'm so glad you're awake. I've been so bored."

He felt her shift, the citrus and soft tickle disappearing, and then felt small, delicate hands roam his body. He stilled those hands with his own, trying to keep his body under control. She tightened her hands around the fabric of his shirt and he thanked a deity he barely believed in that he couldn't see her lips in that moment, his control barely hanging on by a thread.

"What happened? Where are we?"  
"Gun-toting Oliver Queen haters knocked you out and you collapsed into a Cady's trunk. It was really quite impressive. They just wacked you over the head and your knees buckled and you fell backwards and tucked all nice and neat into the trunk, like it was made for you. I guess Gunman No. 2 did have to push your legs in, but even still. These guys are either really smart, or really lucky. And then, while you were out--"  
"So we're in a trunk?"  
"Yes. A Cadillac."  
"But we're stopped?" He asked, noting that it didn't feel like the car was moving.   
"Yes."  
"Um...can you...," he grasped her by her waist and tried (failing miserably) to ignore the intake of her breath, "...just I need...," he pulled her closer to him, exploring the boundaries of the trunk with his feet and forcing himself not to explore the curves of her ass, "...the latch should be...just here...uh..."

Oliver manoeuvred Felicity on top of him to reach the outside of the trunk and bit back a moan when she wriggled a little to get out of the way, settling her legs on either side of him and resting her head against his chest. Felicity had been this close to him a handful of times, between her amazing hugs and their ziplining adventures across elevators banks, outside of windows, and above landmines, but they'd never been tangled together in such a way. Between the proximity, the position, the darkness, waking up to her scent, and the feel of her hands, it was just getting to be too much for even his level of self-control to manage.

He wanted to stay in this position forever, except with more wriggling, yet also get out of the position immediately. Deciding to focus on the task at hand, and deal with his torn emotions later, he searched the inside wall of the trunk, and sighed when he couldn't find an exit strategy.

"I already looked for ways out Oliver," she told him calmly.  
"I'm sure there's--"  
"No Oliver. There's no way out of this trunk. I have done lots of research into this. Trust me when I say we are stuck until someone opens it up for us."  
"Why, exactly, have you researched being stuck in a trunk?"   
"Just being prepared. I wasn't a boy scout, but I do appreciate their motto."  
"Of course you do," he smirked, and she smacked him as if she could see his face.  
"Stop smirking. I know you are."  
"You caught me," he laughed. "You know, you're awfully calm for someone trapped in a trunk with no way out."  
"Well, I'm expecting Diggle and Roy to open up the trunk here pretty soon. I texted them the plate and turned on the tracker. We don't have our phones with us, but Gunman No. 2 has them in his pocket and the car stopped about five minutes ago. I also heard a little grunting outside just before you came to."

As if she really did know it all, the trunk latch clicked and Diggle and Roy's smiling faces appeared above them at that very moment. Felicity smirked at Oliver then, as if to say "I-told-you-so." 

While he was being smirked at by her, Roy gave him the biggest shit-eating grin he'd ever seen, and Diggle cocked an eyebrow before crossing his arms.

 "Are we, uh, interrupting something?"

It was only then that Felicity seemed to notice their rather compromising position. She quickly launched herself off of Oliver and out of the trunk, muttering about how Oliver certainly didn't see her as _that_ kind of girl and how she most certainly wasn't Oliver-Queen-girlfriend material.

Oliver couldn't help but snicker as he adjusted his pants to cover-up exactly how compromising their position was. As smart as Felicity could be, she definitely didn't really know it all.


	2. The Cave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little heated, and a little violent, when a mission goes awry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the slightly-longer-than-one-week interval. I would blame the short-notice visit from my Dad, or that it's been a busy week at work, or that I'm not feeling 100%, but really, this chapter just didn't want to cooperate. So! I hope you like it, and any suggestions and critics and corrections (because I don't use a beta), are welcome, as always.

From the moment Felicity found out the name and location of Starling's newest criminal, she knew it wouldn't be a typical Friday night mission. He was holed up in a cabin in the Stanislaus National Forest, forcing Team Arrow to leave the safety of their brightly lit city for the dark, unfamiliar woods. And as much as Felicity disliked the idea of hanging out in a place where internet was, at best, shotty, four bombs had already taken the lives of nine people, and she would be damned if this maniac got another opportunity to kill.

So she spent the better part of the previous day forgoing her consulting work and searching for the mystery bomber. It took her almost 16 hours digging through every database, looking at every security camera, and combing through every police report, but she did it. She found their culprit.

"His name is Theodore Norton," she announced to the group, who were, as usual, sparring shirtless. Diggle stopped mid-punch, clapping Roy on the shoulder instead, and Oliver was already rounding on her desk.   
"Where's he at?" Oliver growled, his hands reaching for his gear.   
"Stow the rappelling hook Oliver. You won't be jumping from roof-top to roof-top to catch this guy," she smiled up at him, enjoying his frequently worn look of confusion. "You'll be putting those mad monkey skills you so kindly displayed on the island to good use."

She watched as a grin tugged at Oliver's lips, as if an actual happy memory from Lian Yu had surfaced. The thought that she could be that happy memory made her heart leap just a little too much, and she struggled to clamp down on her reaction.

"Monkey skills?" Roy questioned, tugging his red hoodie over his head.  
"You know that thing has a zipper, right?" Felicity teased, facing him. "When we went to drag Oliver back, he scaled a tree, then pulled a Tarzan-move to save me from a landmine. No big," she explained, and watched as all three of their faces turned into grimaces. "I mean, I'm fine, aren't I? No explodey-ness. And, if we want to stop further Starling City explodey-ness, we need to head on over to Stanislaus, the National Forest? Norton has at a cabin there and based on what I can tell from face recognition, he made his way out there this afternoon, along with a few friends. Very large friends. With guns probably. Not like," she made a bicep curl, "but like," she made a gun shape with one hand and added a cute, "pa-chu pa-chu."

Within the hour, they formulated a solid, two-step plan. Step one was all Felicity. She would stay in the car with her high-quality internet, and pull off some computer magic to walk the guys through accessing the cabin without setting off any of Norton's devices, which they all assumed he had planted in various locations around his hide-out. Then, Oliver, Diggle, and Roy would take out Norton and his associates just in time for Lance to get an anonymous tip.

They should have known better. Their plans never really did have a way of working out.

*

Oliver crept along the forest floor, bow at the ready. He had been prepared for a flood of bad memories, the situation so similar to the island, but the peppy voice in his ear seemed to be keeping them at bay.

"Watch your left side Oliver. There looks like there's something going on underground there...could be a device. Digg, you're clear for now, at least thirty feet in all directions. Roy, can you stay still for a minute? I just need to run an extra check."  
"Sure thing Blondie."

Oliver kept to the right, as per Felicity's direction, moving slowly in case her focus was on Roy. He knew she was capable of multi-tasking--very capable if her history with saving his ass in the real world and on Arrow business was any indication. However, he also knew how Felicity could be when her mind was working on a problem.

He only had to wait two minutes before she cheerily told Roy he could keep moving, and continued to direct both Digg and him towards Norton's cabin.

It took just another two minutes before their plan went to shit.

*

A tap at the window broke Felicity's train of thought, and her heart jumped, nearly breaking her ribcage. She peered out of the corner of her eye, seeing nothing but blackness outside of the car's window. Unsure of what caused the sound, and admittedly a little scared, she whispered into the comms. 

"Guys?"   
"What is it?" Oliver's voice was urgent, and Felicity knew that her own tone had put him on edge.   
"It could be nothing. A squirrel. Maybe. Those live the woods, right? But it could also be someone. Also maybe? I'm not sure and I can't see outside and--"

A vicious tug on her arm pulled her from the car and Felicity tumbled onto the dirt floor of the empty parking lot. _How could I have forgotten to lock the doors?_ She scolded herself, angry and scared and screaming for help as she was dragged into the blackness of the woods.

*

The moment she was cut-off, Oliver started sprinting back to the car, needing her to be okay. Diggle and Roy were calling out to her, panting, and he knew that they were headed back to her too.

Felicity was a hell of a lot more important than the mission tonight.

The rain started to fall just as Oliver spotted the car and the drag marks. He knew Digg was at least three minutes out, and Roy maybe a few minutes more. He couldn't wait for them. A lot could happen to Felicity in those minutes, and with the rain, he feared he could also lose her trail.      

"Digg, Roy, there's drag marks from the car. I'm following them, hurry." He tried to sound composed, but his voice broke, the panic seeping in. He took a single deep breath, inhaling the cool, crisp wooded air to centre himself. He pushed away that panic, that dread, and focused on what he needed. He needed to follow the trail. He needed to find his girl. He needed to keep her safe.

And as if Felicity could hear his thoughts, feel how strong his need was, he heard her calling out. It was quiet, but he was so attuned to her voice that he could hear her. And it was enough to push him forward, move his feet a little bit quicker, force his lungs to work a little bit harder, and his pace, along with the rain, started to pick up.

*

Felicity was fed up with her situation. There was only so much dragging a person could deal with, and she was at her limit. Plus, she just bought these pants!

"You do know you're destroying my brand new jeans, right? This _dragging_ me, ow," she snapped as another twig stuck itself into her bum, "It's pretty caveman style, even for a mountain man, which, you totally are. Have you looked in a mirror lately?" She tacked on her best valley girl accent, hoping it would sell her innocence.   
"What are doing here?" the mountain man snarled, and it was only then that Felicity recognized who had her by the arms. She knew that voice inside out and backwards from her 16 hour search.

Ever the optimist, Felicity smiled. At least with Norton dragging her around, they wouldn't run into any bombs.

"I _was_ stargazing. For school. You know what that is, right?" Not waiting for an answer, she plowed through her lie. "Apparently Mr. Harper thinks that I'm not participating in class, and that I need to actually write his dumb quizzes. And momsy listened to him! Can you believe that? So I came out here to do this stupid extra credit assignment, then the clouds rolled in!" She huffed. "And I was like, so tired, so I was texting Lyla and Sara, and catching up on some shows until the weather cleared."

Felicity rolled her eyes, just to seal the deal. Dumb blonde was an angle she learned to play while ripping off Vegas casinos for MIT tuition, and once again, it worked flawlessly. 

Norton paused with a mixture of annoyance and exasperation, and Felicity took advantage of her only opportunity since she'd be grabbed. She pulled a move Roy had taught her--part break dancing, part self defence--and whirled her body and legs around to knock Norton on his ass. As if luck was on her side for once, Norton's head hit the ground hard and Felicity could tell he was out for the count. She desperately wanted to fist pump and gloat, but she also really needed to get back to her guys to let them know she was okay. So, instead of celebrating her victory, she hurried along the path her dragged body had created, back to the safety of the car and her vigilante friends.

She could barely see through the rain, the dark, and the trees, so when her body collided with another, and a hand covered her mouth, she let out a muffled shriek.

"Felicity, it's me," he whispered in her ear, and her body automatically relaxed at the sound.   
"Oh thank God. Did you by any chance bring an umbrella?" she quipped, only half-joking.  
"I must have left it in my other leathers," he joked back. "Come on, I saw a shelter we can use back this way."   
"First, come with me."

Felicity dragged him back the way she came, and he quickly let Diggle and Roy know what was happening through their comms.

"Norton had me, he's just this way. He's knocked out."  
"You knocked out Norton? The man who's been bombing our city? By yourself, you took him out?" Oliver asked her incredulously.  
"What? Diggle and Sara and Roy have been training me you know."  
"What happened?"  
"I'll tell you later, just come on!"

She pulled him through the woods to Norton's limp body and directed Oliver to secure him for part two of their plan: the police tip-off. Before she could borrow Oliver's phone to dial Lance, a violent shiver shook her body.

"We need to get you out of the rain. It should pass soon, but you need to warm up. Come on."

Oliver grasped her hand to lead her, and Felicity shivered from something other than the cool rain. She hated that his touch still caused that chill to creep up her back and those butterflies to erupt in her stomach. Everything she tried to stop her crush never seemed to work, and the more she tried not to feel anything greater than friendly feelings, the deeper she fell into those very feelings she was trying to prevent. It wasn't healthy, and she knew it.

So she tried to date. But she ended up comparing everyone to Oliver. So she tried to focus on their mission. But she ended up getting into these situations where Oliver was holding her hand tightly and looking so damn fine in wet leather and, did she mention, saving not only her ass but trying to save the whole city?

It was in those kind of moments when she only fell further.

"In here," Oliver directed, pushing her through a narrow crevice that barely opened up into a cave. It was slight wider than her, and slightly shorter too. Felicity crouched to make space for Oliver as he squeezed in after her, pressing his front up against her back.

"Felicity, can you move back any further?"   
"Nope. I really can't."   
"It's really coming down out there, and you're freezing. We'll just have to get comfortable like this until the rain lets up. The small space should actually help warm you up."

He found her arms with his hands and dragged them up and down, creating friction to heat her up. Little did he know that she was getting hot in a whole other way.

"Oh, I'm pretty comfortable," she mumbled, thoroughly enjoying the feel of Oliver's naturally warm body against her cold one. _Maybe she should suggest they strip down and share some body heat_ , Felicity mused. __  
"Are you that cold?" Oliver's concerned voice broke through her fantasy.  
"What?" she asked him dreamily.   
"Um...nevermind," he replied quietly, a slight hitch in his voice.   
"I said that stripping thing out loud, didn't I?"  
"I don't know what you're talking about Felicity."

She knew he was lying. Normally, she could tell by his face. Those eyes of his were a dead give-away. This time, though, she could feel his chest rumble with silent laughter against her back, and she wondered how it would feel without clothing restricting the sensation.

"Now, why don't you tell me about how you got away from Norton?" Oliver suggested, once again ruining her daydream. But of course, she indulged him, and excitedly retold the story of her epic kick and Norton's lucky fall.   
"That reminds me!"

Felicity flung her fist upwards, momentarily forgetting the tight space her and Oliver were currently crammed into. She collided with Oliver's face just a second before slamming her hand into the rock surround.

"Oh my god!" she yelled, "Ow, ow, ow."  
"Are you okay?"

He didn't sound right.

"You don't sound right."  
"I'm fine."  
"Then why do you sound like that?"  
"Like what?"  
"Oliver!" _God, this man was exasperating_. "You sounded perfectly healthy two seconds ago and now you sound like you have a cold."   
"It's just my nose."  
"No shit. What happened?"  
"I think you maybe broke it. A little."  
"WHAT! Oh my god. Oh my god, Oliver! I'm so sorry."

Felicity wiggled and twisted, making sure to remember the feel of Oliver's hard body against hers for later, until they were chest to chest. She felt up his body and gently touched his face, feeling blood under her fingertips.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.  
"Felicity," he took her hands, "I’m fine. Now tell me, how is your hand?"  
"It's fine Oliver. It's no broken face."  


*

Knowing how guilty she was feeling, Oliver tried to lighten the mood.

"Even with a broken nose, I bet I'd still be make it into the top 10 most eligible bachelors list."

She snorted, and he knew he succeeded at distracting her from the guilt. It wasn't like his nose hadn't been broken before. Oliver tilted his head to the side, finding that the rain had nearly stopped. He let Felicity know that it was time to head back to the car and they made their way slowly out of the cave.

He quickly re-set his nose before Felicity exited the crevice, and immediately took a look at her hand when she was out.

"I'm fine Oliver," she pulled it away and moved it to his face. "You know, for a broken nose, it doesn't look too bad. There's blood, but we can clean that off, then we'll throw you into a different suit, and I think you may even be top 5 quality."  
"Only top 5?"

Their playful banter lasted until they reached the car, and Oliver saw Diggle immediately zone in on both their injuries. Of course, he addressed Felicity's first.

"Let me see that hand," he instructed, reaching for her. "What happened?"  
"Norton surprised me, dragged me off into the woods. I pulled that move you taught me Roy, which worked super good. And then ran into Oliver. We hid in a cave, and then I accidentally punched him in the face," she summarized, mumbling through that last part.  
"Wait, wait, wait. You punched Oliver in the face? How come she gets to, and I never do?" Roy asked him petulantly. "And...whoa...you not only punched this guy in the face, but escaped Norton? All in one night?"  
"She actually took him out," Oliver told them, proudly. "He's secure, we just need to phone it in."

Oliver watched as Felicity's blush crawl up her cheeks.

"Way to go girl," Diggle patted her on the shoulder before moving his attention back to her hand.

Roy, though, couldn't stop staring at Felicity in awe. It wasn't until they were loaded into the car, driving back towards the city lights, that he broke the silence.

"You know Blondie, at this rate, Team Arrow is going to be renamed Team Felicity and you're going to be the kick-ass vigilante wearing leather."

Oliver admired her as she light-heartedly slapped Roy's arm, blushing a shade deeper, and muttering about how no one wanted to see her in a leather bustier. He couldn't help but smile at his girl, who, once again in the run of one evening, proved to him just how capable and how clueless a person could be.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What'd you think? Did you have a favourite part? Were you expecting something else to happen? Leave a comment! Or a kudos! And see you next week (I hope!) :)


	3. The Coffin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity gets to live a childhood dream and Oliver gets to practice his meditation exercises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter three! I was loving it, until about the last six paragraphs and I kind of lost my muse. So please, be kind! 
> 
> As always, any suggestions and critics and corrections (because I don't use a beta), are welcome!

A week had passed since the cops arrested Norton, and even though the bombings had stopped, things were far from tranquil in Starling City. Lance had been quietly grateful to Felicity, knowing she was the conduit to the Arrow with Sara out of town. He also was, surprisingly, grateful to the anonymous tipper during his press conference. His thank-yous, however, quickly turned to warnings, cautioning the city against the chaos that the bombings had left in their wake. Crime--everything from the petty to the violent--was running rampant, and it had not only the police, but Team Arrow, working over time.

Because everyone on the force was occupied with lootings and shootings, the deaths of three middle-aged women had gone unnoticed by everyone except Felicity's programming.

She was talking to Oliver and Roy over the comms, both of them on patrol trying to assist the police wherever they could, when her computer chimed. Felicity immediately started to pull up the associated data and was so absorbed in skimming through hospital reports, she didn't even notice when Roy returned.

"Felicity? Felicity!"

Felicity glanced up at him, curious as to why he felt the need to yell. His puzzled look and the fact that he was out of his mask and quiver, plus his repetitive yelling, led Felicity to the understanding that it probably wasn't the first time he called her name.

"Sorry Roy. What were you saying? Other than my name, that is..."  
"I asked you what you were looking at."  
"Maybe nothing. Maybe something. My gut is telling me it's something."  
"What's something?" Oliver's voice rang out from the new lair's entrance.

Felicity wasn't quite sure how to explain what she was looking into without first explaining the program she wrote, so she started off with the IT-girl babble. Half-way through her description of the coding, she realized what a terrible approach she took. Roy's eyes were bugging out of his face, and Oliver had that partially amused expression he wore only when he didn't understand what the hell she was saying.

"In summary," she heard Roy's sigh of relief and shot him a glare, "the program searches for patterns. These three women," she pulled up their obituary photos, "have a connection besides their gender and recently deceased status."  
"Which is what?" Oliver asked as he pulled off his leather boots.   
"All three of these women died of a cerebral aneurism." When neither Oliver or Roy looked impressed, she tacked on, "They all died this week. As in the last seven days."  
"So?" Roy shrugged.

She rolled her eyes at them and began to ramble off the statistics, quoting the percentage of people who have aneurisms, and of that, the percentage of aneurisms which are cerebral, and of that, the percentage of cerebral aneurisms that cause death. It was simply statistically impossible for three women, of approximately the same age, located in the same city, dying of the same type of aneurism over the span of only a week.

"Impossible?" Roy repeated doubtfully.  
"I guess it's possible, considering the world we live in now...hello, meta-humans...but it's really, really, _really_ unlikely. I've been scanning for similar cases in other cities, and I've already found five women from Bludhaven and three women from Gotham that meet the MO. Hopefully it'll help point us in the right direction."

Roy, who was never one for research, just nodded before heading to the shower. Oliver, on the other hand, sat down beside Felicity and scanned the hospital reports she pulled up. She couldn't help but notice how close he was to her, his chair dragged so close to hers that their thighs were nearly touching. Peeking up at him under her lashes, she examined his face. Although it was absorbed in the task, he seemed tired, weary, and she couldn't stop herself from reaching out to pat his hand.

 He gave her a small smile, one of those she liked to believe was reserved just for her.

"Until we get a clue of who the perpetrator is, any thoughts on the next steps?" he wondered.

Felicity smirked.

She did, in fact, have a thought. A very, very exciting thought.

*

Oliver had done a lot of crazy shit in his life, both before, during, and after the island. There was the naked ski trip of '05, which caused the Queen and Merlyn PR firms more than their fair share of grief. There was every damn day on that island, doing things he never thought himself capable of. And then there was his current life: QC board member and Starling City volunteer by day, hooded vigilante by night. Life didn't get much crazier.

Until tonight.

Because tonight he was breaking into a morgue.

And the weirdest part wasn't that he was currently picking a lock to get _to_ a dead body, but that there was a petite blonde woman squealing in delight beside him. She should be gagging at the thought of seeing cold, dead bodies...not thrilled.

"This is so exciting," she told him as he jimmied the door open.   
"How?" He looked back at her, eyebrows raised, hoping she would finally explain her enthusiasm.  
"I'm basically living a childhood dream right now Oliver. I really wish that I could tell ten-year old me that it will happen."  
"Your childhood dream was breaking into a morgue?"  
"Yes! I mean, no. And this is a funeral home with a morgue. There's a difference."  
"So it was to break into a funeral home?"  
"What? No. My childhood dream was to be just like Buffy!" she whispered animatedly.   
"You do realize I have no idea what you're talking about, right?"

The door clicked opened and he glanced back at her with a satisfied smile on his face. Felicity was only glaring though, not at all impressed that he was capable of opening a locked door. _Maybe he really should learn some pop culture_ , he thought. _That would impress her._

"Oliver, it's called Netflix. I ordered it for you for a reason. Start watching stuff. And really, Buffy was on way before you went all Gilligan on us, so you have zero excuse to not know what I'm talking about. There are like three episodes where Buffy breaks into the local funeral home. This reminds me of the first one, mostly. She was on a date with this really handsome guy...not that this is actually like that episode, like at all. Not that you aren't a really handsome guy. I mean, you, you...you know what. We both know you're handsome, so I'll stop there. But this isn't a date."

Even though he wasn't planning on acting on his feelings for her, it was nice to hear that she wasn't blind to him. He automatically grinned down at her and she gently swatted him before leading the way to the funeral home's morgue.

"Barry said we just need to pull out a few hairs and then he'll run over to get them later. He and his team can do a full analysis, find out something, hopefully," she told him quietly.

Oliver grunted in acknowledgement, angry at himself for that oh-so familiar flash of jealously that broke through whenever Barry's name was mentioned. He and Barry were on good terms, and he knew that Felicity and Barry were just friends, so his jealously was unfounded. But no matter how unfounded it was, it still reared its head every time Felicity casually mentioned the guy's name. At least when he was jealous of Ray, and of Daniel, and of the barista from the coffee shop two blocks from her apartment, and of the newest detective at SCPD, he had a good reason.

If you considered Felicity going on a date with someone other than him a good reason.

Which he did. Whole-heartedly.

*

Oliver's grunt was odd, Felicity thought, but then his moods did tend to give her whiplash. Shrugging, she pushed aside the emotional roller coaster that was Oliver Queen and opened the door to the morgue. Two out of the three victims they were investigating were at this funeral home, so it was just a matter of finding them amongst the other bodies.

It didn't take Felicity long to locate the second victim: Susan Sutherland, a recently divorced nurse. She efficiently plucked a few of Susan's hairs, tucked them into a sterile baggie, and pocketed it before continuing her search for victim number one. Five minutes later, after searching the entire morgue twice, Oliver interrupted her.

"Digg texted. Him and Roy got victim number three's sample. Did you finish up?"

He'd been keeping watch in the hall, so he hadn't noticed her frantically checking the clipboards for a second time.

"I can't find her."  
"Could she be somewhere else?"  
"No. I checked and re-checked and her funeral isn't until..."

And then Felicity realized where the body of Georgia Young, mother of three, was.

*

Oliver hurried after Felicity, following her out of the morgue and back up the stairs to the funeral home's main floor. It wasn't until he was standing in a room with chairs lined in a row and a closed casket at the front that he understood what she was looking for.

"Her wake was today," Felicity mumbled, her gloved hand tracing the smiling faces of one of many happy family pictures that surrounded the coffin. Oliver watched as she frowned and tears started to pool in those big eyes. He hated that this life made her upset. But he also loved that she still had such a capacity to feel after witnessing as much bad as she had over the past two and half years.  

He placed a hand on her shoulder, and took her tweezers, opening the casket just enough to retrieve a few hairs. Felicity had collected herself by the time he turned around, holding open another one of her sterile baggies.

Footsteps and voices, getting louder by the second, startled them both. Oliver instinctively moved Felicity behind him before edging towards the door. The hallway was clear, but whoever was in the funeral home was getting closer to their location.

He felt a soft tug on his sleeve, and Felicity pulled him into the room across the hall.

Oliver's eyes darted around the new room, realizing that Felicity had dragged him into the funeral home's showroom. He counted a dozen caskets while he searched for an exit. There was only the way they came through, plus a single window secured with locked bars. He couldn't make that work in time, judging by the ever-nearing footsteps.

Without over-thinking it, he hauled Felicity to a coffin, lifting the lid and kneeling on a single knee to give her leverage.

"Get in," he spoke in his lowest voice.

It was a credit to Felicity's trust in Oliver that she didn't question him. She simply stepped up onto his bent leg, crawled into the casket, and laid flat. Oliver stood, taking a single step towards another casket, when he heard someone on the other side of the door.

Afraid he'd run out of time if someone decided to look into the showroom, he stepped back towards Felicity, and, without warning, climbed in on top of her, shutting the lid.

*

Felicity didn't understand what was happening. One minute, Oliver was headed to his own, Oliver-sized, hiding space. The next, he was all up in her hiding spot, which was far from Oliver-and-Felicity sized.

"What are you doing?" she hissed into the darkness.

She felt his stubble brush against her cheek, and the sensation short-circuited her brain. All her worries about his invasion left her. She revelled in their proximity. She could feel his weight, hovering over her as he encased her body with his own, and his smell, so familiar at this point, was so much stronger with her nose was pressed into him.

She focused on his breathing, matching it with her own. And she listened. Not to the people who forced them into this not-exactly unpleasant situation, but to Oliver's steady heartbeat.

And, as weird as she knew it was, she sort-of thought it was beating a little faster than normal.

*

Oliver was struggling with every inhale and exhale Felicity took. He could feel it on his face, and knew exactly how close her lips were to his. If he shifted just a quarter inch, he knew he'd been kissing the corner of her mouth. Another half inch and he could cover her lips with his own.

But he couldn't. He couldn't cross that bridge. She was the best thing in his life, and he wouldn't risk screwing that up.

Though, if he was being honest with himself, he knew that if she ever made a move, his self-control would do more than crack, it would shatter.

Oliver began breathing deeply to clear his mind, just as Shado had taught him so many years ago. He found he needed the meditation more and more often, especially after spending a day with Felicity by his side. It helped...until he realized Felicity was breathing at the same pace.

Thoughts he really didn't want to have while he was lying on top of her, in between her legs no less, swarmed to the front of his mind. No matter how much he told his imagination to stop, it wouldn't, and before he could change his breathing, scenes from every single Felicity-dream he had started rolling.

He watched as her blush crept down her neck, onto her chest, and beneath her plain, turquoise bra--the same one he'd caught sight of that one night in the foundry.

He saw his own hand pulling that bra strap down, his lips tasting her skin for the first time.

He felt her fingers running over his neck and trailing down his bare back.

He heard her whimper his name. Her moans, just like she those he listened to when she tasted Table Salt's vanilla brownie, echoed in his ears.

Oliver could feel himself hardening, and that was definitely not okay considering Felicity's current location. He shifted his focus from his Felicity fantasies to the facts. He was her friend. She wasn't his. Those moans were for a brownie, and had nothing to do with him. Her real hands wouldn't be driving him wild, ever. He repeated those negative thoughts like a mantra until he started to soften.

Although it took longer than he wanted to calm down, which he fully blamed on the fact that he could feel Felicity's hands pinned between them, he was confident that he stopped himself before his desire became incredibly obvious.

The pleasurable agony of being trapped in a box with Felicity lasted for another few minutes before the voices and their accompanying footsteps were out of ear-shot. Oliver shifted, pushing open the coffin's lid and held a finger to his lips, letting Felicity know she needed to stay silent.

He lifted himself off of her and out of the casket without making a sound, and checked the hallway before signaling for Felicity to follow. Together, they hurried down the hallway, towards the opened back door, and, once outside, they sprinted to the safety of Oliver's motorcycle and Felicity's Mini, both parked a block and a half away.

It wasn't until they reached the vehicles that Oliver noticed his hand entwined with hers. Felicity, who appeared to notice their situation at the same moment as Oliver, gave his hand a quick squeeze before she let go. With a sheepish, apologetic look, she started up the Mini, and sped off to the lair, leaving behind a smitten Oliver who, once Felicity was out of range, couldn't seem to wipe the goofy, love-struck look off his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What was your favourite part? What enclosed space do you think is coming next? And when do you think things are going to get awkward?
> 
> See you next week!


	4. The Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Compliments, galas, backless dresses, oh my! Can Oliver hold it together?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies! I can only blame my computer a little bit for this delay, and the rest can be blamed on too many ideas for other stories! This file is saved as FF#3 on my computer, and I'm now at FF#10, all unfinished! And I just started a new one...so, I've made a goal to finish at least two of my already started stories, of which Enclosed Spaces is no. 1 on the to-finish list. I've almost done with chapter 5, and have the rest outlined! Please enjoy chapter four and apologies for the insane wait time!

One of the few cons of Oliver's new QC board position was the schmoozing. Nearly every weekend, he was either on a golf course in the early hours of the morning playing a game he hated, or at a board member's home, having lunch with a handful of people in a dining room that could fit more than 30. And, once every other month, he was expected to play host to the board, to QC's upper management, and to any of QC's potential partners.

So far, he’d been able to avoid a large gathering, hosting only small dinner parties with select board members and their partners. But this month, Barbara, one of his strongest supporters on the board, insisted on a gala for 200 people and their guests.

Oliver hadn't been able to come up with a good enough reason to refuse.

Of course, Oliver had no idea how to go about planning a gala, and with a recent drug dealer pushing a new blend that stripped people of their strength of mind, he'd been a little more than preoccupied. Before he knew it, there was less than a week to go, and the only thing that had gone out were the invitations.

But thanks to his Girl Wednesday, there was now a bare-bones gala taking shape in his family's ballroom. Oliver, whose head was pulsing from a gas grenade to the face during his late night confrontation with the new drug dealer, was not handling the bustling activity very well. He didn't give a fuck that the stage was a foot to the left, or that the pâté was going to be venison rather than bison. Yet all of the vendors felt the need to update him on irrelevant details and ask for his permission for any menial thing. His frustration was peaking and his self-control was slipping with every goddamn question that was asked. 

"Just get it done!" He bellowed at the head decorator, who asked something that Oliver hadn't even heard over the pounding in his head. He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, only opening them when he felt a soft pressure on his chest.   
"Oliver," she said quietly, her hand hovering over his heart, "I need you to leave before you go 100% Arrow on these people who are only trying to do their best. Okay?"

He felt himself nod and his feet shuffle and soon he was away from the noise in the safety of his father's old office. And that's exactly where he was hiding 2 hours later when Diggle stormed in, very pissed off at something.  

"Oliver, Felicity isn't your EA anymore!" he bellowed. "She's got her own, very successful business."  
"I'm aware of that Digg," Oliver replied, realizing in that moment that Diggle wasn't very pissed off at something. Diggle was very pissed off at him.   
"Then can you explain to me why she's out in the ballroom, dealing with the band _you_ hired and the caterers _you_ hired and the rental company _you_ hired?"  
"I didn't hire them. Felicity did."

 _Wrong thing to say_ , Oliver thought when Digg's fist collided with the desk.

"Oliver, if you tell me that girl has planned this entire goddamn gala for you, we are going to have a problem."

It was clear that if he told Digg the truth, he was going to get decked, and hard. So he didn't tell Digg that Felicity stopped by earlier in the week to check up on how the gala planning was going, and knew, without needing to ask, that Oliver was in deep trouble. With a couple phone calls and a few taps on her tablet, she told him with her customary smile that the usual gala fare was what he'd have to settle for with such short notice.

Even if he wanted to stop her, which he most definitely didn't, Oliver hadn't even been aware she was helping him out until it was done.

And just as Oliver cleared his throat to say something--he still wasn't quite sure what--Felicity saved his ass once again.

"Ease up on him John. It took maybe an hour of my time to book some people, plus just a couple hours today checking in on them," Felicity patted Diggle's clenched fist and plopped into one of the leather wingbacks across from Oliver, smiling. "Everything is ready to go. And, on the plus side, now none of the delicious nibbles have nuts in them!"

Oliver grinned at her joy, watching as she pulled out her phone and texted happily. He glanced back at Digg with a shrug.

"I swear, I didn't even know she was booking stuff until it was already done."

Digg's anger seemed to dissipate--marginally.

"Well I'm going to go check in with the security that _Felicity_ apparently hired."

She lifted her head at the sound of her name and gave Diggle a sweet smile.

"I should go too. This face needs some work if it's going to be gala-beautiful."  
"You're always beautiful, Felicity."

It rolled off his tongue without thought and he knew, the moment it escaped, things were going to get awkward. Diggle's glare was back, accompanied with just a hint of suspicion, and Felicity was so startled by the compliment she dropped her phone.

"Um...," she stuttered, "Thanks? I think...ummm--"  
"You're welcome," Oliver replied coolly, sliding into his default playboy persona, hoping it would defuse the awkwardness.

His strategy failed epically.

Felicity's face fell when he put on his mask, her sweet smile turning to one of sadness and her blush disappearing from her skin. Oliver cursed himself. Of course she would notice the mask. She always knew when he wasn't himself. And before she gave him the chance to fix it, she waved without enthusiasm and disappeared from the room.

Diggle followed closely behind her, that glare of his firmly in place for what Oliver guessed was the foreseeable future.      

Six hours later, the mansion was filled with unrecognizable faces, camera flashes, and soft cello music. All of it set Oliver on edge. If he had a choice, he would be on the streets with Roy, rather than stuffed into a tuxedo, shaking hands with strangers, and making small talk.

To make matters even worse, and what was honestly the biggest reason for his agitation, was that he hadn't seen Felicity yet. Her going undetected by Oliver either meant that she hadn't arrived, or that she was actively, very actively, avoiding him. Both of those scenarios gave him a sinking feeling, because he knew that if she was late, it either meant there was trouble or that the other scenario, the avoidance, was the reason behind her tardiness.

"Oliver, darling!" Barbara called, pulling him towards yet another investor. "You've got to meet Bill. He's just a hoot!"

A throat cleared softly behind him and his heart leap.

"Excuse me," she said, "I just needed to steal Oliver for a few minutes. Party-planning issues."

Barbara, who knew exactly the effort Felicity put in to make the gala a success, smiled dearly at her.

"Bill can wait," Barbara winked, and shooed Oliver in Felicity's direction. "We'll catch up later, my dears."

Felicity latched onto Oliver's wrist and hurried them from the ballroom as quickly as she could without it looking suspicious. She was leading them down the hallway towards his father's office, and Oliver paused, hoping they could talk somewhere else. Somewhere that he didn't associate with the reality that he hurt Felicity. He opened his mouth to suggest the library, when she walked two steps ahead of him.

Oliver nearly stumbled at the sight.

Her back was bare. He could see every inch of her pale, smooth skin from her neck to the bottom curve of her spine. It was as if she was wearing a skirt, rather than a dress, and thoughts of a topless Felicity took a hold of his mind.

He needed to touch her.

He needed to feel her flawless skin beneath his calloused hand.

And he needed it immediately.

His walls that held back his cravings for her shattered. Desire, stronger than he’d ever felt, pushed him head-on into his next action. And if it was a little mad, he'd claim the sight of her drove him insane.

It would be the truth, after all.

*

Felicity was almost to the office when Oliver's hand looped around her waist. She didn't have time to protest before they ended up front to back inside of a dark room which had next to zero space. The buttons of Oliver's shirt were pressing into her back, and his hands hadn't left her waist, his arms still banded across her hips, just below the line she would consider 'friendly'. But she stayed silent, figuring that he pushed them into this closet for a reason.

Because why else would he?

Her first guess was that someone was following them. Not that she could follow that thought through to a point where it justified Oliver's actions.

When he inhaled, his nose against her hair, her thoughts became a jumble of memories.

_You'll always be my girl._

_I love you._

_You're always beautiful._

His words tumbled through her mind. She knew that there was something there, something between them. She wasn't an idiot--far from it--but she had never been good with relationships. And Oliver was the absolute worst at relationships, so together they were really at a loss. And she understood why he hesitated. He had more baggage than an airport.

And she figured one of the biggest pieces of baggage was his fear of wanting something good. Of having something good.

But that baggage didn’t mean he had a get-out-of-jail free card, especially one reserved for him dragging her into a closet at a gala and smell her.

Especially after he shut down on her.

Their relationship was above that. Even if his tongue slipped.

 _No, don't think of his tongue_ , Felicity told herself, as images of that tongue tangled with hers bombarded her mind.

"Oliver?" she started, whispering. A sharp intake a breath left her as he adjusted one of his hands, moving it in between them and trailing it down her bare back. And damnit, she couldn't stop the shudder that went through her, nor the little gasp that left her mouth.

"So soft 'licity," Oliver mumbled into her ear and down her neck, "So beautiful."

Felicity was at a loss. Her brain cells no longer functioning at their higher levels as he trailed light kisses along the nape of her neck, his fingers still scorching against her skin. She forgot about why she pulled him away from the ballroom, about the lead Lance gave them on the drug dealer. It wasn't until his hand dipped beneath her gown and edged toward her breast that she remembered her and Oliver were not together. That his hands barely belonged on top of her clothing, let alone beneath them.

She flinched, and Oliver must have noticed because he withdrew his hand and placed it back on her hip.

"Oliver," she whispered, on the verge of tears, "We...this...can't...I'll meet you and Diggle in the office."

And with those words, Felicity managed to escape him embrace, and ran to the safety of Diggle and the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it was worth the months, and months, and months of delay!
> 
> Up next: The Freezer (featuring Oliver, Felicity, and, just to change it up, Roy)


	5. The Freezer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity's pissed. Maybe a close encounter, and a bullet wound, will help mend the fence.

As it turned out, the gas grenade Oliver took to the face 24 hours before the gala had dosed him with a fairly potent self-control inhibitor. Between Oliver’s short temper with the gala staff, his slip of the tongue in his father’s old office, and the 'closet incident', as Felicity now liked to refer to it as, she’d known that something was off with him. So, once Oliver finally left the closet and turned up in his father’s old office, Felicity had immediately taken a sample of his blood and drove to the foundry, alone, to confirm the dosage.

Digg had questioned Felicity later that night, simply not believing her story that an Oliver-Queen-mood-swing was evidence enough for even her genius to surmise that he’d been drugged.

“I just…I can’t John,” she had replied. Because she couldn’t. The one person she wanted to hash out Oliver’s behavior with was Oliver, and she knew that any discussion on the matter wouldn’t have a happy ending. If she tried to bring it up, she knew that he would shut down on her the same way he always did and that the discussion would ultimately end up with him rejecting her.

And the last thing Felicity wanted to hear was Oliver’s rejection. She really didn’t want a live soundtrack to go along with the imaginary one she played in her head.

Felicity’s solution to the problem was avoidance. She hadn't spoken to Oliver without the presence of Diggle or Roy since the closet incident, and didn’t intend to until the whole thing was long forgotten. Not that it was forgettable. Felicity could never forget the feel of him pressed against her, or the way his fingers caressed her skin, or his heady words.

So, Felicity would avoid dealing with Oliver alone until he realized that she was completely fine and that he absolutely did not have to bring up the closet incident.

Felicity, however, was not fine. How could she be? The guy she was crazy about had layered soft kisses along her spine and called her beautiful twice in one day.

She was fine enough though. And being fine enough was all Felicity needed to continue being a part of the team.

*

“Where’s Felicity?” Oliver asked, immediately noticing the absence of his bubbly blonde typing viciously at her keyboard. That’s where she’d been three hours earlier, studiously ignoring him, like every other night for the past few weeks.   
“She’s gone for the night,” Diggle smirked.

Oliver’s stomach twisted up, knowing, somehow, that he wasn’t going to like the reason why she’d left.

“Earlier than normal,” Oliver commented, trying to prod Diggle for an answer. His smirk only grew at that.  
“She had a date.”  
“Where? With who?” 

Diggle leveled him with that look, that _get-your-shit-together_ look, before throwing on his coat and leaving for the night without giving Oliver any answers.

There were other means to find her, though. Oliver dashed up the foundry stairs, pulled out his cell, and opened up the ‘stalker’ app, as Felicity so bluntly put it months earlier. Her app let him know where she and Diggle were, and vice versa, at all times. He was nervous that Felicity would have used her IT skills to prevent him from finding her, and was relieved when her little pink dot showed up on the map.

He growled and cursed when the pink dot’s location registered. 

Apparently, whoever her date was, thought the Glades was a great spot for taking out the most remarkable woman on the planet. 

Oliver only had to jog down a few alleys, and leap a handful of fences, to realize where he was headed and where Felicity’s little dot was at.

And when it registered, his insides were as green as the leather he was wearing.

Oliver had never really been a jealous person in his youth. He had no reason to be. He was a good looking billionaire. Sure, he had been envious on occasion, particularly when a parent of someone he knew was genuinely proud of their child, but Oliver was especially skilled at denial.

And being jealous over a girl? That did not happen in Oliver Queen’s world. Even when Tommy and Laurel were Tommy and Laurel, Oliver wouldn’t have described the feeling as jealously.

Felicity was the only woman who’d been able to pull that reaction from him.

And the fact that she was at Roy’s trailer, on a date?

It made his blood burn.

He hovered outside in the shadows until Felicity exited Roy’s place, walking to her car alone. The jealous rage Oliver had been feeling was overshadowed by his anger that Roy couldn’t even be bothered to walk Felicity to her car. There was another part of him, not as small as he’d like, that sighed in relief. If Felicity was leaving without Roy as an escort, maybe their date had gone badly.

He waited until she was almost at her car before leaving the shadows and grabbing her wrist gently.

“Oliver!” she screeched. “What are you—“

*

Felicity cut herself off. She was supposed to be ignoring him, but she couldn’t very well do that without her Diggle and Roy buffers. Felicity debated on turning around and going back to Roy’s before sighing and breaking her vow of avoidance.

“Why are you here Oliver?”  
“I saw that you were in the Glades. At night.”   
“You were stalking me using the app,” she muttered, knowing she was right without looking at him. “Tell me Oliver, why does my location concern you?”  
“Your well-being always concerns me, Felicity,” he told her sharply.

She glared at him as she bit back a scoff. It was difficult to believe that Oliver was capable of acknowledging all the moments when her well-being meant less than diddly squat to him. Most recently, she recalled, was when he shut down on her after paying her an honest compliment and then violating her in a stupid hall closet. And then there was the fact that he didn’t even offer up an apology. She knew he wouldn’t. And even though she didn’t really want him to bring it up, or apologize, that didn’t stop her from being pissed off about it.

Just as she was about to tell him all that, Roy called out and ran over to them.

“What’s up? Some big bad on the horizon?”

Felicity laughed at Roy’s terminology.

“Damnit. Felicity, I told you watching Buffy was a bad idea. So? Emergency? What’s the—“   
“HELP!” a voice called from the distance, and Roy immediately took off in that direction.

She watched as Oliver’s eyes flickered between hers and the path that Roy took.

“Go Oliver,” she said quietly. “Go and help.”

He squeezed her wrist before chasing after Roy, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the dark. Felicity climbed into her car to wait, watching the clock on her phone tick and tick and tick.

She waited for ten minutes before opening up her own version of the stalker app and finding both Roy and Oliver, eight blocks away, in an alley deep in the Glades. Roy’s red dot didn’t seem to be moving very much, while Oliver’s green dot seemed to be everywhere.

“I might as well go see if they’ll need me to patch them up,” Felicity grumbled, pleased that her boys were fighting the good fight, but wishing, for once, that she’d been able to go home and cuddle up with her pillows without having to first scrub away vigilante blood.

She drove to their location, parking at the edge of the alley as to not disturb the fight. Felicity waited, watching the red and green dots on her phone while working furiously to pull up any kind of security cameras on her tablet.

There was, go figure, no security feeds available.

“I really need to get Oliver and Roy suit cameras,” Felicity said to no one but herself, daydreaming about all the micro-tech she could create. She’d have to call Cisco in the morning to see what he thought of the idea.

Bored with the still-again red dot and the ever-moving green dot, she cracked her window to see what noises the dots were making.

“Harper!” she heard Oliver’s voice call out, edged with panic. Before Felicity could think it through, she was up and out of the car, hurrying around the corner to a sight she’d thought near impossible—excluding that one time there were super soldiers roaming the city.  

Roy was on the ground, with three goons attacking, and Oliver was tangled up in some sort of net, his limbs stretched at odd angles making his knives inaccessible. She was just about to run back to her car and dial the police and Diggle when a fourth goon grabbed her arm.

“My my, what’s a pretty thing like you doing here? Come to save the heroes? Seems you’re too late,” he cackled as he pulled a gun, aiming it at Oliver, while his partners slammed Roy into the ground.  

Felicity hated that all she could do was whimper, as the gun-wielding maniac shoved her towards another.

“Nick,” the one with the gun called out, “how much ya think?”  
“Stow ‘em, and lets go talk to Brick about that,” the goon named Nick snarled.

Felicity was wrestled over and into a beat-up freezer chest, her hands and feet tied with cable ties and her mouth duct taped shut. The gun-totter returned moments later with his fellow goons who were carrying Roy and a still hooded-up Oliver, much to Felicity’s relief.

Unfortunately, both of them were unconscious and cable tied.

It wasn’t until the freezer lid was closed, and Felicity heard a lock click into place, that she started to panic. Locked freezers were not a component of her kidnapping research, and she always made the assumption that Oliver, Roy, or Diggle would be there to ultimately save her. With two of the three of them knocked out, she only had Diggle as an option, and even if she could get out of the cable ties, she doubted cell reception was going to be available inside of the freezer.

Felicity tested the strength of the cable ties, hoping that she’d been able to escape them with little trouble. The plastic was stronger than the ties she’d practiced with, but Felicity was confident that she’d be able to break them.

After eight attempts, Felicity’s confidence was wavering. The most effective method for Felicity had been to raise her arms and slam them down and into her stomach, clenching her shoulder blades. It hurt like hell, but broke the plastic lock 4 out of 5 times. The freezer simply didn’t allow her the space to break free. She moved on to try her least favourite technique next, using the shoelace from Roy’s boot to create a friction saw. It took her multiple tries to get the knots right, her hands shaky from the eight other attempts at escaping, but eventually she managed. Leaning against Roy to give her legs some space, she pumped them back and forth, as well as she could with them tied.

It took longer than in her practice runs, but after a few minutes, she was able to crack the cable tie. With both hands free, she did the same to her feet before ripping off the duct tape.

Felicity pushed up on the freezer’s lid, only to have it open a couple millimeters and tested her phone’s reception. It wasn’t great, but Felicity had worked with less. She was able to connect to her car’s Bluetooth and automatically start it, calling Diggle through the vehicle.

“Felicity?” his voice was alert, yet heavy with sleep, when he answered on the fifth ring.  
“Hi John. Sorry to call, but emergency. Oliver, Roy, and me are sort of trapped. In a freezer. In an alley in the Glades.”  
“I’m already up.”  
“Please hurry. I don’t know how long it’s been and they’re coming back and Roy and Oliver are both not doing too well. I mean, really really not well. They’re unconscious and Oliver’s shot.”   
“What’s new,” he replied, “Be there in five.”

Felicity disconnected the call and went to work and separately Oliver and Roy’s bindings, kicking herself when she realizes that both of them have knives.

“Well,” she muttered to no one but herself, “At least I know I can escape cable ties in a real-life situation.”

*

Oliver heard a recognizable whisper as his body lurched in pain. He blinked his eyes open, seeing Felicity’s unharmed face lit by the blue-glow from a cellphone. She wasn’t looking at him though, instead, staring off at a place along his ribs, and he suddenly recognize the source of pain.

He’d been shot. Again.  

“You okay?” he whispered.  
“Oh! Oliver!” she gripped his face with one hand and pressed harder on his wound with her other, “I’m so glad you’re awake. Roy’s knocked out, we’re trapped in a freezer, John is on his way, hopefully arriving before the people you were fighting come back to sell us to some bad guy named Brick, and you were shot,” Felicity told him concisely.   
“I don’t need to be told that,” he smiled through the pain and, for the first time in a week, she returned it. “Look, Felicity, I—“

A groan coming from the other end of the freezer, which couldn’t have been more than a few feet away, interrupted Oliver.

“Roy, Roy!” Felicity whispered, shifting away from Oliver while still keeping pressure on his ribs.   
“Felicity?” Roy’s voice mumbled, and Oliver suddenly remembered that his girl, his partner, had been on a date with his protégé not hours earlier.

Felicity explained the situation to Roy, and just as she said “and John’s on his way”, there was a noise outside of the freezer. Oliver shifted, ignoring the pain, and lifted the lid of the freezer as much as he could while the lock still on.

“It’s not Digg,” he told them. “I think they’re going to open the freezer. It sounds like they have no way to move it.”

Oliver crouched, readying himself to pounce. The position forced Felicity to drop her hand from him and he hated himself a little for wanting to keep the warmth. If she was happy with Roy, then he was happy for her. Even if he and Roy were going to have to have a serious talk about allowing Felicity to walk to her car alone, at night, in the Glades.

He heard the lock being opened and palmed two knives, ready to payback the idiots that managed to take out Roy, trap and shoot him, and touch Felicity.

The fight, if you could call it that, was short. Oliver surprised the man who opened the freezer, knocking him unconscious with a single blow and Roy took out another man with several knife swipes to the legs. That left one man for each of them, who were easily taken out with a few seconds of hand-to-hand. Felicity had already called Detective Lance, cleaned as much of Oliver’s blood from the scene as she could, and texted Diggle to tell him to head back home.

Oliver secured the last of their attackers just as she called out to them to get in her car before the police showed up. He was surprised when Roy climbed into the back, allowing Oliver to pile into Felicity’s front passenger seat, and even more surprised when Felicity dropped Roy back off at his place and the two of them parted with nothing more than a ‘glad-you’re-okay-see-you-tomorrow’ attitude.

If Felicity was his, Oliver would be bringing her home to worship her body, to feast between her thighs and make her forget the last hour of their lives.

“Oliver? Oliver? Oliver!” Felicity yelled.   
“Sorry? What?”  
“You weren’t answering.”   
“Oh…uh…”

He stumbled over his words, aware that admitting that his mind was thinking about his tongue sliding around her clit was the wrong thing to say.

“I asked if you wanted to go to the Foundry or to my house. I have some supplies there to clean you up, and its closer.”  
“Okay.”

She drove the rest of the way in silence and Oliver took the time to think over how he could apologize.  He was ready to make things right between the two of them.

Twenty minutes later, he was bullet free and stitched up. He and Felicity were lounging in sweats on her couch, Felicity sipping a small glass red wine and Oliver choking back a cup of island-herb-tea.

“Thank you, Felicity.”  
“No problem,” she replied with a yawn.

And even though Oliver knew that the events of the night had smoothed over their unsettled friendship, he knew he needed to say it. More so, he wanted to say it.

“I’m sorry.”  
“For what?” Felicity glanced up at him, confused with wondering eyes.   
“For the gala.”  
“Oliver, it was a drug.”   
“No. I mean, yes. I’m sorry that that happened like that. With drugs. But I mean I’m sorry for before the gala. For hiding from you. For shutting down.”

Felicity was silent for a while, before clutching his hand.

“Thank you. Please don’t do it again?”  
“Never.”

She smiled softly and took another sip of her wine.

“By the way, I’m happy for you and Roy,” Oliver told her, taking a gulp of tea in an attempt to mask whatever insincerity showed on his face.   
“Me and Roy?” She questioned, taking another sip.   
“Yeah. John may have mentioned you were dating.”

An hour later, Oliver fell asleep with a smile on his face and a red wine stain on his shirt, both a product of Felicity’s laughter at the apparently ridiculously hilarious notion that she and Roy Harper would ever be an item.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really struggled with this chapter (if you couldn't tell by the multiple month delay in posting). Fingers crossed that it didn't show! Thanks everyone for the kind words. 
> 
> Next time, a mission forces these two crazy kids together in another enclosed space. Can you guess what it'll be?

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I hope you enjoyed chapter one of a 10 chapter series! I love hearing your comments and seeing your kudos, so please feel free to share. If you have a particular enclosed space you'd like to see, and its not on my list, maybe this will grow into an 11, 12, 13...you get it...chapter series. 
> 
> Also, I have zero other chapters written, only titles. Therefore, this won't be a daily, and maybe not even a weekly update. Ideally weekly...but sometimes life, and writing, can be a fickle thing. Please bear with me is all I ask!
> 
> Cheers!


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